The Magic Hat
by whitetiger91
Summary: The story behind Cornelius' iconic lime-green bowler hat.


_**A/N: This story was written as an entry for The Houses Competition, Year 3, Round 7.**_

 _ **House: Gryffindor**_

 _ **Year: Head Girl**_

 _ **Category: Short**_

 _ **Prompts: 9.** **[Character] Cornelius Fudge**_

 _ **Word count: 2996 words (written on Google docs)**_

 ** _Betas: Thank you to Shiba (Shibalyfe) and CK (Theoretical-Optimist) for beta'ing! Xx_**

 ** _Additional A/N: There were a few possibilities that I wanted to explore with this prompt, including the impact Cornelius' humiliation and retirement had on his family, but that may be for another round. When I saw that he had a nephew by the name of Rufus (ironic given it's also the name of his successor), I wanted to use him somehow (and of course, the idea behind Fudge's iconic bowler hat). I hope you enjoy this take on it! The names of his wife, brother, and sister-in-law are, of course, made up. The title, too, bears no reflection on the title of a wonderful children's book of the same name (I briefly considered changing it to 'The Lucky Hat' but ehh).  
_**

 ** _I hope you enjoy reading this. Go Gryffindor! :)_**

* * *

 **The Magic Hat**

 **June 1989**

"Happy birthday!"

Cornelius beamed at his family as they cheered and clapped. He couldn't wait to dig into the three-tiered cake in front of him, pleased that his wife, Eleanor, had gone with the chocolate rather than the sponge cake she usually made.

Before he could cut a slice, however, it seemed his family had other ideas.

"Open our present next!" his nephew said, placing a box on the table in front of him.

His wife quickly pushed the cake plate aside to make room for it as his brother gave him an apologetic look. "Yes, Rufus picked it out himself."

Cornelius looked at the box, no longer sure if he should open it. His nephew always picked him out interesting gifts. Last year, he'd given him a jar full of newt eyeballs that he'd placed in a rusted biscuit tin. The only comforting fact for this gift was seeing the official Madam Malkin's logo stamped on the wrapping paper.

"Go on! Open it!" Rufus said, peering over his shoulder.

Taking a deep breath and keeping the smile plastered on his face, he complied with the nine-year-old's wishes and pulled on the purple ribbon holding the package together. Lifting the lid off the box, he picked up the object inside.

"Oh… it's ah, it's certainly bright," he said, holding up a lime-green bowler hat.

"Isn't it just? It was the only one they had," Rufus said, a large smile on his face.

Cornelius ruffled the boy's sandy-brown hair and sat the hat down. He reached for the cake, his appetite growing.

"Try it on now!"

"Oh, it's alright. How about some cake?"

"Go on, see if it fits!"

"Rufus, don't pester your uncle. Come and sit down," his sister-in-law, Edith, said, pulling out a chair.

Rufus ignored her and picked up the hat. "Try it on. It's a magic hat, you know, just like leprechauns wear. It'll bring you luck!"

Cornelius raised an eyebrow as his nephew stood on a chair and placed the hat upon his head. He could certainly see the resemblance to a leprechaun's hat, and as he looked over at his brother, he could see that Colin was trying to hide a smirk. If it wasn't for Rufus then wrapping his arms around his shoulders, he would've taken it back off.

"Happy birthday, Uncle Corny," he said, hopping off the chair.

* * *

 **January 1990**

"Stop fretting; you've got this in the bag," Eleanor said, trying to rub his shoulders.

He shook her hands off, though, as he continued pacing in front of the snack table. The Wizengamot had been in the meeting room for over two hours now, despite the tallying of votes supposedly only taking twenty minutes in the past. What were they doing in there? Were Bartemius' friends on the committee trying to get him extra votes? Did they think an Auror would be a better fit than a lowly Magical Accidents and Catastrophes worker?

"I know what will make you feel better," a voice said, breaking into his thoughts.

Cornelius turned to see his nephew holding a plate full-to-the-brim of hors-d'oeuvres. The young boy seemed to be the only one in the room eating; many other ministers, their family members, and other campaign supporters were gossiping away about the real reason Millicent Bagnold had retired, or speculating about who would win the vote. He himself was far too nervous to even think about taking a bite.

"Not now, Rufus," he said, flicking his eyes back to the meeting room's closed doors. What was taking them so long?

"Trust me." Cornelius turned back to see his nephew put down his plate and dust his hands off. Reaching into the satchel he'd insisted on bringing to the function, he pulled out a lime-green hat. "You forgot to take this with us, but luckily I remembered on our way out the door."

"How lucky," Cornelius mumbled.

He knew he should've found a better hiding place for it than in the linen cupboard. Rufus smiled at him as he forced it on his head, causing Eleanor to giggle. He was sure it clashed horribly with his purple pinstripe robes, but he supposed he was already heading for humiliation if he lost the Wizengamot's vote. Why oh why had he gone up against the likes of Bartemius Crouch?

The doors to the meeting room were thrown open at that moment. All thoughts of fashion left his mind as the council of old wizards and witches clad in plum-purple robes flooded into the room. Everyone immediately quietened as one of them, Albus Dumbledore, headed up to the podium that had been placed in the centre of the room.

"Esteemed witches, wizards, and their dear guests, the vote has been decided," Albus said, his blue eyes twinkling as he surveyed the crowd.

Cornelius stared into them, wondering if they'd give any indication of who had won, but as usual, Albus gave nothing away. He turned his eyes to the rest of the Wizengamot committee. Some of them were smiling fondly at Bartemius, a few gave him a courteous nod, and others began to fall asleep in their chairs. His heart sank as he realised that many of them favoured tradition and would prefer to go with someone they already knew could do the job.

"Without further ado, it is with great pleasure that I announce your new British Minister for Magic," Albus said. "Congratulations, Mr Cornelius Oswald Fudge!"

He sucked in his breath; he thought he'd heard _his_ name being called. It was only when Eleanor pulled him in for a kiss and his brother slapped him on the back that he headed towards the podium in a daze.

He had won… he had won! He finally smiled as he shook his mentor's hand.

"Nice hat," Albus said, winking.

"What—oh, that," Cornelius said, taking a moment to register his words. When he felt the soft material, his grin widened. "It's my lucky hat."

He searched through the applauding crowd until his gaze landed on his nephew. The boy gave him a thumbs up, and Cornelius returned the gesture.

* * *

 **August 1993**

He was such a fool! He was sure to go down in history as Britain's—no, the world's—most incompetent Minister for Magic. How could he have possibly lost _the_ Harry Potter, especially when Sirius Black had just escaped?

He continued pacing the small hotel room, not even caring that he was wearing a path into the rug. What if Harry had been captured? What if the Boy-Who-Lived was now the Boy-Who-Died-Under-Cornelius-Oswald-Fudge's-Watch?

Pausing as a sharp pain hit his palm, he looked at the object he'd been wringing in his hands. Part of the brim of his lime-green bowler hat was now sticking out in a sharp point. He quickly moved his fingers along it, moulding it back into its original circular shape.

He gave a nervous chuckle as he looked at it. The hat had seemingly brought him good luck before; just last year, he'd been holding it when it was confirmed that, against all odds, the Weasley girl had been rescued from the Chamber of Secrets. Could it possibly work again?

Shaking his head at the foolish notion, he put it back on his head and smoothed down his robes. Harry Potter hadn't gone to The Leaky Cauldron as he'd hoped. He'd have to face the music, and he'd prefer to do so with dignity.

Before he could leave, however, someone came barrelling into the room.

"Minister! Minis—oh, there you are. The Potter boy has been picked up by the Knight Bus and will arrive here shortly. His things are on their way."

Cornelius let out a sigh of relief as the barman gave him a low bow. "Thank you, Tom; I'll be downstairs in a moment," he said.

As soon as Tom left, he whipped off his bowler hat and kissed it. It certainly was a lucky hat!

* * *

 **June 1995**

Cornelius clutched onto his lucky green bowler hat, wishing for it to provide him with the strength he needed. He was making the right decision, wasn't he? After all, the man was a lunatic. He'd also already escaped from Azkaban once; there was no telling whether he would be able to again or not.

As he entered the classroom where the man was detained, the looks in his holders' eyes did nothing to ease his worry.

"Best to get it done with," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

He shivered as the Dementor he'd brought from Azkaban glided past him, its breath alone making the room colder. The creature leaned over the man bound in the chair, not caring how his brown eyes widened in fear.

"Are you sure there's no other way?" Minerva McGonagall asked, her face pale.

Cornelius gripped his hat tighter. He wished there was a better way; it wasn't like they were simply executing a wayward Hippogriff this time. This man was a living, breathing human. This was a man who, like his dear nephew, was once a young boy full of wondrous prospects in life. Although his soul was tainted, taking it away altogether would be worse than any execution.

But he wasn't Rufus; he was evil. He was already lost to the world, raving non-stop about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning. There was no place anywhere for him anymore.

Placing his hat firmly on his hand, he shook his head and motioned for the Dementor to carry on. "It's time."

Whether it was the hat's power or something else, he somehow managed to keep from throwing up as the soul of Bartemius Crouch Junior was taken away at his command.

* * *

 **August 1995**

"Lies! What utter, horrible lies!"

Cornelius paced his office, only vaguely aware that his blood pressure was at breaking point. He couldn't believe that both Harry Potter—a mere child craving more fame—and Albus Dumbledore—someone who he was supposed to be able to look up to—were still carrying on with their blatant lies. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named couldn't be back, not when he'd worked hard the last few years maintaining peace in the country. It was impossible! And then Albus had the gall to call him out in front of the rest of the Ministry…

He needed to stop them somehow, to infiltrate their safe place before they did more harm. He couldn't allow the crazy old man to influence the young minds at Hogwarts. The trouble was, he had no idea how he could prevent it from happening without outrightly removing Albus as Headmaster and looking scared.

 _Ding. Ding. Ding._

Sighing, Cornelius glanced over at the chiming clock on the wall. It was almost impossible to come up with a good idea with all the meetings he had to attend, and with the summer holidays fast ending, he was running out of time. He ambled over to the brass coat rack by the door, putting on his cloak and green bowler hat; the plotting would have to wait.

Before he could leave the office, however, there was a knock on the door.

"Hem, hem. I do beg your pardon, Cornelius, but may I have a word?" He sighed again as Dolores Umbridge strutted through it.

As usual, the witch was wearing a small black bow on her head and bright fuschia robes. She wore a smile on her face that vaguely reminded him of someone—or something—else, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Either way, he didn't have time for her latest 'report' on the state of the Ministry that she liked to produce—especially without being asked to—and headed for the door himself. "Sorry, Dolores, but I don't have ti—"

"Wonderful hat; it suits you," she said.

Cornelius faltered, a hand going to his hat. It was the first time anyone, apart from Albus Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy, had complimented him on it. He'd never really thought much of their words though; Dumbledore's taste in fashion was quite… unusual… and Lucius was always throwing away compliments. Dolores seemed to be sincere, however, as she gave him another simpering smile.

"Th-thank you," he said, ensuring it was sitting correctly on his head.

Dolores walked forward, her tone changing to one of concern. "Cornelius, I'm afraid I have some bad news. After what I saw today, I'm quite certain that Albus Dumbledore is conspiring against you."

Her words had his ears picking up immediately, and after checking no one was directly outside the office, he shut the door. He motioned for her to sit down, eager to hear more. He knew he couldn't be the only one to be seeing through Albus' lies!

"I may have a solution to your—our problem," she said, leaning forward.

It was all Cornelius could do to not clap his hands together. Taking off his hat, he silently thanked the garment for once again saving him.

"Go on…" he said, his smile soon matching hers.

* * *

 **July 1996**

Cornelius took a deep breath as he held onto the ornate brass handle of his front door. He'd been staring at the door for what felt like hours, not able to push himself to go inside. How could he? How could he possibly face yet another night of seeing the disappointment in his wife's eyes, or the annoyance on his brother's face, or the 'I told you so' expression his sister-in-law had sported all week?

He'd been a fool, an absolute fool. He should've believed Albus about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return when he'd had the chance. Now, the whole wizarding world knew how stupid and incompetent he was, cementing it cruelly in the calls for his resignation.

Taking off his bowler hat, he squeezed it out of habit to give him the courage he needed to step through the door and face his family. With any luck, they'd have finished dinner and gone to bed early. Perhaps he could slip through to his bedroom and pretend for one more night that he wasn't a failure and hadn't brought shame to the Fudge name.

"Finally, you're home. I was worried about you!" Eleanor said, hurrying into the hallway as he hung up his cloak.

Cornelius' shoulders dropped as he realised he'd caused yet another problem for her. "Sorry, I just—"

"It's alright," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and guiding him through to the dining room before he could hang up his hat. "Come now, everyone's waiting for you."

"What…"

"Finally, Corny's here," his nephew said, a grin stretching from ear to ear on his freckled face. "Now can we dig in?"

Colin clipped the boy over the ear as Eleanor guided him to his seat. He stared around at the smiling faces of his family, dumbfounded at how they could be so joyous.

"What's all this?" he asked, turning his attention instead to the array of food laid out on the table.

It seemed Eleanor and Edith had cooked up a storm, covering the large mahogany table with all his favourite foods.

"We wanted to celebrate your retirement the right way," Eleanor said, sitting down. "Now let's eat before the heating charm wears off."

He placed his bowler hat on the table and picked up his knife and fork. He wanted to ask them why they weren't still disappointed in him, but he could see from their smiles that he didn't need to. They were his family, and family always forgave.

"Pssst, Uncle Corny," Rufus whispered, nudging him with his elbow. When Cornelius turned to him, the teenager winked. "You have to do the dishes tonight."

* * *

 **July 1999**

He'd thought it would be more difficult walking through the hallways of the Ministry of Magic, but somehow, it felt like he was strolling through any other workplace. Ministry workers darted from office to office whilst others lurked in corners, no doubt pretending that their gossip sessions with other department heads were 'important work conferences.' Only a few people stopped to stare at him, perhaps curious as to why he dared come back.

He found he didn't care, though, and with a box tucked underneath his arm and his head held high, he strolled straight to the Improper Use of Magic offices.

"Uncle Corny? What are you doing here?" Rufus asked, pushing his chair back and standing up.

Cornelius looked around the shared office, taking in the way each desk was separated into cubicles. He'd forgotten what it was like to first start at the Ministry; being Minister had certainly had its privileges. Still, his nephew had somehow managed to keep the array of prank products and Muggle artefacts he collected in neat piles around his space and had even transfigured his walls from the dull grey everyone else had to a nice, calming blue.

He smiled at the boy and held out the wrapped box. "I just came by to wish you good luck on your first week," he said.

Rufus accepted the present, a wide grin on his face. When Cornelius nodded, he tore off the wrapping paper and opened the lid.

"Is this…"

"The magic hat you gave me? Yes, the one and only. I'm retired now, and I think it's high time I pass it onto you," he said.

Rufus held up the lime-green bowler. "I'm sorry it didn't bring you much luck," he said, his cheeks growing red.

Cornelius took the hat from him. "On the contrary, my dear boy. This hat worked its magic just fine. There may be mistakes to be made, and I certainly had my ups and downs, but with my family behind me, it didn't matter. This hat reminded me of that, or rather, the person who gave it to me did."

Rufus grinned and bent down, allowing him to place it on his head. "No wonder I call you Uncle Corny," he said, nudging his elbow.

He returned his smile and adjusted the lime-green bowling hat on Rufus' head so that it sat just right; after all, it was a magic hat and needed to be treated right.


End file.
